He's a hypocrite (but he told me that ages ago, hah). He's a workaholic and he always will be. But he dreams big and does things so that he can say that he's done them.. and that's something that I want to do, and am doing, thanks to him. He makes me happy. He makes me smile. He makes my heart skip. He gives me that look, that one which says 'I hope you're okay', or something else, and it makes me go weak at the knees, so to speak. He won't put me first, but he does make exceptions for me. And maybe that'll teach me to chill out, man up and live for myself. I miss him less than I used to. But that was always going to happen. And I'm still happy to see him.. And still I sleep easier with him there.
I'm not trying out of the ordinary. He supports me. He pushes me to do what I should, like he did with calling Eva Maria. He just made me smile by liking something that I did, on Facebook (LAME). A text from him makes me smile. He calls me "little one", and I love it. Him asking how my day was makes it, half the time. When my dad left and I was in a state, he said that I could just cry; that he was there "to get soggy shoulders". He holds me close. I think he's hot. He turns me on. Less than previously, but only in frequency, because that's him. And to be honest that's a good thing. It can help me realise that I'm as beautiful as he seems to think whether or not sex is involved. I trust him completely. We fit in around each other. It's effortless. It's lovely.
No comments:
Post a Comment